


Endearment

by sparklyfaerie



Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M, PWP, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:15:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25728805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparklyfaerie/pseuds/sparklyfaerie
Summary: It takes him almost a month to realise that she hasn't once referred to him by name since the wedding.
Relationships: Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke
Comments: 11
Kudos: 257





	Endearment

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write fluff, but these two horny idiots had other ideas.

"Anata, can you pass me my shirt please?"

Sasuke obliges without a thought, not even registering the affectionate epithet. It is the day after their wedding, and he and Sakura are getting ready to depart from Konoha by midmorning. Normally, they'd have left at the crack of dawn, but they'd shifted their plans a few hours later in the day. After all, they hadn't gotten to sleep until late; they'd been _busy_.

Sakura has spent the past few days adding his family crest to her wardrobe, but this is the first time she's worn it. It causes something wholly unexpected to stir within him at the sight of her slipping a garment branded with the symbol of his people over her body. Times when she'd stolen his shirts notwithstanding, this is the first time she's ever worn the _uchiwa_. This is the first time, he thinks, that he's ever seen it displayed on so bright a colour, the red and white standing out against the dark pink of her shirt.

"Anata?"

He blinks when he realises that he's staring. She seems to understand; she bends over the corner of the bed with soft eyes and kisses him. It's chaste and sweet, the kind of kiss that fills his heart with warmth without stoking the flames of his desire. Her hand cups his cheek for a moment before pushing the hair from his face, exposing the rinnegan. "It's time to go."

He nods wordlessly. Her hand withdraws and his hair falls back into place, hiding his dōjutsu. Together, they pad to the entrance of Sakura's apartment and pick up their travel bags, ready for their next adventure.

* * *

It takes him almost a month to realise that she hasn't once referred to him by name since the wedding.

When she speaks about him to others, she always refers to him as ' _my husband_ ', the smile on her face blinding in its radiance. When she speaks _to_ him, it is always ' _Anata_ '. He wonders at the ease of her affection; even now, when they have been together for well over a year, he still finds himself hesitant to express his feelings for her in front of others. Always, he waits until they are behind closed doors to show her just how ardently he loves her. But she gives him her affection freely, though always at a level that he is comfortable with when in public—brushing her hand against his arm, a slight squeeze of his hand before releasing, a light brush of fingers across his shoulders. ' _Anata_ ', it seems, has become his name.

It's how he knows he's in trouble when she scowls at him over the campfire and says "Sasuke-kun."

"Hm?" He glances up from where he is feeding firewood into the blaze, stiffening in alarm. It's still a little while before they will head to bed, and letting the fire die on a mid-autumn night is never comfortable. They will be warm enough in the tent when they retire—but for now the clear night sky beckons, shimmering with a thousand stars above.

"Where is my book on medicinal plants? The one Tsunade-shishou gave me. The last time I remember seeing it was when you were looking at it."

Oh, is that all? That book is rare; one of her prized possessions. He relaxes. "It's in my pack. You couldn't fit it in yours after buying all those blank scrolls."

She frowns in thought for a moment, then smiles. "Oh, that's right. I remember." She disappears into the tent to retrieve the item. When she returns, she is smiling. "Thank you, Anata."

"Hn." He doesn't let her know how much he appreciates the return of the endearment. She would never let him hear the end of it.

* * *

"Uchiha Sasuke, you are the single most reckless individual I have ever had the displeasure of meeting!"

He regards her with raised eyebrows as she heals the smattering of injuries that litter his face and body, courtesy of a rogue nin who had detonated an unexpected explosive in a last ditch effort to escape Sasuke's pursuit. He'd ambled back into town with the unconscious man slung over his shoulder and proceeded to claim the bounty on his head before going to find his wife for medical treatment. "That's not true and we both know it."

Indeed, that title belongs to Naruto. Perhaps Sasuke might make a close second in that particular competition, but Sakura easily comes up third, so she really has no right to criticize. But he knows better than to tell her so—proving his point. Naruto would have said as much and gotten his skull rattled with her chakra-laden fists for his trouble.

"You should have taken me with you!" She hisses.

"You were busy." He points out, inclining his head toward the door of the office she's been temporarily granted for the duration of their stay. Being a world-renowned medic-nin, she is often welcomed in any hospital or clinic they happen across. "I'm fine."

"Yes, and that's why you're voluntarily sitting here and letting me fuss while I heal you." She snaps. "Honestly, Sasuke-kun, you have three broken ribs. _Three_! I _know_ how painful that is!"

He shrugs, nodding down to the remains of his left arm. "I've had worse."

And while that is depressingly true, she still purses her lips. "Yes, yes, getting your arm blown off hurts more, I'm sure. That doesn't mean you should treat your body with carelessness! You should know better, Anata!"

If she figures out why he's smirking, she doesn't say so; she simply glares at him and completes her work in silence. His, as she sees it, complete disregard for his own health and safety is the only thing she ever gets short with him about. Even their worst spats are mild compared to the tirades she has been known to go on when she believes that he isn't taking proper care of himself. But he knows that the use of the pet name means he's already forgiven.

* * *

" _Anata_ ," she pleads breathlessly, squirming next to him as he touches her with his fingers; he's sitting beside her, facing toward the top of her body, with his hand between her thighs. He's been teasing her for a while, now, content to watch her face as she strains to reach her climax; his touches are fleeting and light, meant more to prolong her frustration rather than to satisfy. She knows that all she has to do is say the word and he will give her what she wants, but for now he is enjoying the sight of her too much for it to end. Here in the semi-darkness of their travel tent, lit only by a guttering lantern, she is lovely.

He speeds the motion of his fingers just enough to make her whimper, her breasts heaving as she nears the precipice before he slows down again, a wicked smirk stretches across his lips as she turns her head to glare at him dazedly. " _Anata_ , you're being _cruel_." She whines, trying to finish herself off with her own hand.

He simply snatches it away, kissing her palm before releasing her wrist; they have an unspoken agreement that Sakura will never use her chakra-enhanced strength when they are intimate, so he's easily able to manipulate her body as he pleases. He's briefly entertained the idea of giving her free reign to use it one of these days, but it's never come up. "What do you want, _wife_?" He leans down as close to her face as he can get and purrs. He knows how much she likes it when he calls her that. He doesn't do it often, and only ever when they are like this.

"I want to come." She begs. " _Please_ , Anata."

Sasuke will never let it be said that he denies his wife anything. Not anymore. So, he obliges, returning his fingers to their previous employment, touching and stroking her with purpose. She bites at her lip as her body starts to writhe, thighs clamping down on either side of his hand.

When she finally comes, it is beautiful. Her face and chest flush a deep red and her eyes screw shut, teeth biting at her bottom lip as soft whimpers escape her throat. His fingers slow and then still as she comes down, panting, and he withdraws his hand. She watches with glossy eyes as he wipes his fingers on the edge of their blanket and studies her face, propping his elbow on one of his knees and cradling his chin in his hand. His fingers still smell like her.

She reaches for him, but he smirks and catches her hand. She frowns in confusion—usually, he is all too eager when she is ready and willing to give him the selfsame satisfaction that he'd just given her, but tonight he's in no rush. "Not right now." She glances down pointedly at the bulge straining against his trousers before looking back up to his face. "Not yet."

She pushes herself to a seated position. He steals the question she is about to ask with his lips, threading callused fingers through her hair.

A gentle hand on his chest pushes him back the slightest bit. "Sasuke-kun?"

He frowns at the use of his name. "What did I do _now_?"

"Huh?"

He's caught her off guard, large green eyes blinking up at him. "You only call me that when I've pissed you off, these days."

"What? Your name?" Her eyes nearly bug out of her head. "Do I?" He nods once. She breaks out into laughter. "I hadn't even noticed! You never said anything!"

"Tch."

"Hey, wait!" Her eyes light up. "That means…"

"Sakura," he warns, exasperated.

"You actually like it, don't you? You'd have told me to stop, otherwise. Oh, that's so _cute_!" She coos, giggling.

" _Sakura_."

"I'm sorry, _Anata_." She says it with such syrupy sweetness that he wrinkles his nose. She pushes to her knees and shuffles in front of him, pressing her bare breasts to his chest as she leans forward and warps her arms around his neck. "I didn't mean to embarrass you." She murmurs into his ear. The warmth of her breath across his jaw makes him shudder as fingers trace random patterns across his shoulder blades. He tilts his head to watch her with the rinnegan, suspicious. She presses plush lips to the corner of his eye and grins.

"I'm not embarrassed." He maintains.

"Mhmm." She hums just below his ear this time, lips moving against the skin in the dip behind his jaw. "I'm sure you're not."

One of her hands moves; mischievous fingers slip back over his shoulder, trailing down over his bare chest, past his navel, all the way to the waistband of his trousers. He snatches it away again. "I said not yet." He reminds her. She pouts, but returns her hand to its previous position. He palms a breast and moves his face to her neck, pressing feather-light kisses to her salty skin. She sighs happily, rolling her head to the side.

His fingers mimic her own, releasing her breast and trailing down her stomach, before curving over the swell of her hip to grasp her bare bottom firmly. He tugs insistently at her, pulling her body up and over his knees, waiting until she settles where he wants her. When she's comfortably straddling his crossed legs, his teeth nip at the underside of her jaw and his fingers move from her backside to the wetness between her legs.

She gasps when they bypass the little bundle of nerves he'd been toying with earlier and easily slip inside. He probes gently before he finds the spot that makes her squirm and begins his assault. She whines and rests her forehead against his, eyes screwed shut and panting into his face. Her fingers flex against the nape of his neck, her thighs tensing around his hips as he drives her back toward ecstasy. "A-Anata." This time the delivery is breathy and desperate, causing the corners of his lips to twitch into the smallest of grins.

He removes his fingers. She whines.

"Sasuke-kun!" She glares at him. This time, he knows the use of his name is deliberate. "Don't you dare!"

He adopts an innocently confused expression—something that he actually has to work at, because it's not one he makes naturally. "What?"

She growls and pushes him with enough force that he topples over backwards, dragging a chuckle from deep within his chest before she grinds her wetness against his clothed erection. He straightens his legs, accepting the new position with a hiss. " _Shit_."

"How would _you_ like it," she drapes herself along his body to press against him, "if I toyed with you, only to leave you wanting?"

"You wouldn't." He says with certainty, hand tangling in pale pink tresses.

She pulls his hand away and pins it to the sleeping bag below them. "I _might_." She threatens. It's an empty threat and they both know it; Sasuke simply relaxes against the soft material, watching her to see what she'll do next. She's still pressed against his hardness; he can feel the warmth of her through the two measly layers of fabric that separate them.

She pushes herself back up and shimmies down his legs, taking his trousers and underwear with her. When he helps her by kicking them off, she regards him with narrowed eyes. He feels a thrill run down his spine and settle behind his navel at how dangerous she looks—crouched in the semi-dark, the shadows across her face are long and deep, making her seem predatory. He simply tucks his hand behind his head and waits.

"I could walk away." She insists. "I could put on my clothes and be halfway to Kusa by morning."

"You could," he agrees, "but you won't."

She's silent for a long moment. Then, she huffs and moves back up his body. "You're lucky I love you." She tells him archly, sweeping down to kiss him.

"I know." He answers when she pulls back. It's something that he reminds himself of often, when he looks at her and sees his whole world personified in a vision of spring. He sometimes wishes that he had the power to express these thoughts to her, but he can never quite manage to bring the words to his lips. He suspects she knows—hopes that she does.

She steadies him with a hand and sinks down over him, sighing in relief as his fist clenches in his hair. He's never prepared for her, no matter how long they've been doing this; every time is just as wonderfully torturous as the first. She's so hot and wet, clenching around him as she begins to bounce on his lap; he watches her ride him, his sharingan spinning to life and tracing over her entire form. She opens her eyes to peek at him and presses the tip of her tongue behind her teeth. "Like what you see?" She croons, giving her hips a little _twist_.

"Yes." His voice is lower than its usual register, hoarse and deep. He feels her shiver around him as his hips rock up into her. The tomoe of his sharingan spin lazily as he drinks in the sight of her; her skin glows peach in the sputtering flame from the lantern, her dips and swells highlighted by the feeble light. His mouth waters with the desire to bite into her plump skin, but she stops him from rising with her hands pressed against his chest to support her weight as she grinds down on him.

Her hair spills over her shoulders, hiding her face in darkness; he moves her hands one at a time to his shoulders and props himself up on his residual limb, reaching forward to push pink tresses back so he can see her expression. Their breathing is ragged, small sounds escaping as their bodies meet messily. She dips forward and presses her mouth to his as her movements lose their rhythm, whimpering and sinking her teeth into his bottom lip as she shudders above him. He slips his fingers to the wetness between them, circling her clit with firm, practiced strokes in an effort to get her there. He will _never_ tire of feeling his wife come apart while squeezing around him.

She slumps against him, causing him to lose his balance and fall onto his back again. She giggles and presses slow kisses to his jaw as his hips grind upward. "You didn't?" She whispers.

He shakes his head. "Not yet." His muscles are straining, his jaw clenched tight as he chases bliss.

She's maddeningly uncooperative, seeming content to rest her chin on his chest and stare at his face. "Remember what I said about leaving you wanting?" She teases—and then, to his utter bewilderment, proceeds to disentangle herself from him, avoiding his grasping hand and sticking her tongue out at him.

" _Uchiha Sakura_ ," he growls in warning.

"Yes, _Anata_?"

"You get back here this _instant_."

She giggles and dodges as he makes a swipe for her. She's a little unsteady, but she rises to her knees and shuffles across the tent to her clothing. Sasuke is glowering at her back as he scrambles to his knees and makes another grab for her.

His hand connects with her hip and he wraps his arm around her form before she can squirm away. She laughs as he drags her back against his chest, his hardness pressed against her lower back. "Don't you _dare_." He growls into her ear, breath hot against her neck.

She wiggles against him, making him curse as she manoeuvres herself onto her hands and knees with the apparent idea to try to crawl away. Her giggles become a gasp when he moves with her, his knees spreading hers with a rumble of warning as he releases her waist to steady himself. She sighs as he fills her, his arm returning to her waist to haul her back up onto her knees. He thrusts into her from behind as she quivers in his arm, his body mindlessly chasing sweet release.

Her hair tickles his face and her arms are holding her breasts steady as he jerks into her, rhythm thrown to the wayside as he gets close. He feels everything in him strain; it doesn't take long before he is coming with a groan and hot, panting breaths along the skin of her back. Slowly, he releases his hold on her and she slips forward back onto her hands before shuffling to face him.

"You're a fucking tease when you want to be, you know that?" He huffs as they arrange themselves back on the spread-out sleeping bag. Sakura giggles once again as she pulls the blanket over them to hold off the chill until they either fall asleep or find the energy to put their clothes back on.

"But you love me." She reminds him, slipping under his waiting arm and resting her head on his shoulder. " _Anata_."


End file.
